


Right Now. Or Never, Eames.

by deinvati



Series: AELDWS July 2019 [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Prompt Fic, angst like woah, oodles of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: If Eames had an elevator to revisit the memories he regrets, this would be one of the stops.





	Right Now. Or Never, Eames.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Never. Give up.” (Remember this phrase has to appear in the drabble!)  
> Genre: None  
> Word count: up to 500 words

"Arthur."

He slowed, but he didn't stop moving.

" _Arthur,_ " Eames tried again. "Just wait a tick. Come on. Listen to me."

He was listening. He just wasn't going to do what Eames was telling him. He knew that look. He'd seen it on Arthur's face more than once, on a job, fixing the sink, making dinner.

He had to get through to him though. "You're never going to be able to save him," he said. "Never. Give up."

Arthur scowled. "I can't. He's my best friend."

His voice sounded broken, and Eames gritted his teeth against the lump in his own throat. "Listen to you. Best friend. Are we in primary school? Are you going to get matching bracelets? Hmm? Come on. What does that even mean?"

Arthur just looked at him, complicated and crumpled, packing a bag. Packing more than he needed for a week. Packing everything, it looked like. Everything he'd ever brought over and left in Eames' flat. Everything Eames had given him. Everything they'd made together, built together, into a Burberry messenger bag, easily carried onto an airplane, or easily left behind in case of a hasty exit. The flat had always been his, but Arthur had been staying, and Eames, like a git, had hoped.

"Arthur," Eames tried one last time, and this time Arthur faced him. "If you go…"

"I already know you're not going to come with me, Eames, and I'm not asking you to," Arthur snapped. "Don't give me an ultimatum."

Eames, who hadn't even considered it, licked his lips and shifted his weight. "If you go," he said, slower, "you're tying your fate to his. His sentence becomes yours. And what if you fail? Hmm? What happens then?" He took a step closer. "Please don't do this."

Arthur's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Wow. Your faith in me is reassuring, really. But no, I don't need any help, thanks. I couldn't possibly accept your assistance, so please, stop begging me to let you. Just because Mal is fucking dead and Dom is running for his fucking life," he spit out.

"Arthur!"

He shouldered past him, stopping at the kitchen counter to yank the key off his ring and slap it down.

Eames sighed through his nose. "Call me if you need anything, yeah?"

Arthur snorted and left without a goodbye, the blast of hot air from outside swirling around him before the door drifted closed again.

Eames pinched the bridge of his nose and then scraped a hand through his hair. Gone. Just like that, like it had never meant anything.

" _Fuck_!"

Eames slapped a kitchen chair across the room and went to get his jacket. He could walk away too. He could leave, lose himself in Mombasa for a while, find someone to punch or something to steal. He didn't have anything to lose either.


End file.
